


Hands Clenched Tightly

by dabpancakes



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst Warning, F/M, but i needed angst, but its catharsis, get tissues, im sorry, theres nothing happy here, torturing the gc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26260504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dabpancakes/pseuds/dabpancakes
Summary: "This wasn't how this was supposed to end. Her hand clenched her lovers, the stark white sheets and the smell of bleach and loneliness making her cough. People talk about karma but he never did anything bad enough to deserve this. If that had all been due to his job it was understandable, he put his life on the line, that’s justifiable, but this, nobody deserves this,  especially not Spencer."ANGST WARNING! READ THE TAGS!
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Reader
Kudos: 13





	Hands Clenched Tightly

This wasn't how this was supposed to end. Her hand clenched her lovers, the stark white sheets and the smell of bleach and loneliness making her cough. People talk about karma but he never did anything bad enough to deserve this. If that had all been due to his job it was understandable, he put his life on the line, that’s justifiable, but this, nobody deserves this, especially not Spencer. He worked his entire life to find good in the face of the most depraved evil anyone had seen. And to be taken away with such an abnormality. it almost seemed like a cruel joke. She curls up in a hospital chair, the hand-holding her lover’s hand is the only thing grounding her to earth. Tears have been running down her face since she got the call early that morning. Derek’s broken voice was cutting through the phone, and initially, she was confused Derek didn't work with Spencer anymore, why would he be calling. Then she remembered that they were just out getting dinner with Hank and Savannah. As his words cut through the phone static, her entire world came crashing down around her, “Spencer... He's not ... Come quickly..." She felt her world stand on en,, quickly getting the name of the hospital from him, the blood rushing through her ears like a runaway train, the very noise of it all threatening to consume her, then everything went quiet. 

It was all too quiet. Doesn't somebody know that the quiet in hospitals don't help the people whose worst fears are running through their heads? Maybe on a different floor of the hospital, there is someone being born, someone whose happiest day in their life is happening, but this floor, this ward, is only for sorrow. Spencer still holds her hand, there is a glimmer of hope, but she knows not to hold on to it. Her mind echoes the prognosis that the doctor gave a year ago, his gray hair leading into a cracking voice, "Six months. You should be happy for 6 months." She remembered the tears that welled up Spencer’s eyes when she looked back at him. All of their plans for the future were cut short by two measly sentences. A diagnosis she didn't know existed, but by the look on Spencer's face, one he couldn't argue with. 

Glioblastoma. Glioblastoma. It doesn't even sound like a word, but in that one moment, everything they had planned for fell apart. It doesn't even sound real, it sounds like something does she find in the children's book full of made of names. But it meant something to Spencer, his eyes going wide, and his breath catching in his throat. He couldn't even form any words for five minutes. They just sit there and look at each other, the pain and anguish of the next year hung in the balance of their stares. Finally, he looked at the doctor and he said, “Are you sure?" When the doctor responded with a nod, he merely thanked him and walked out. Her life from there on out became a series of Google searches and comforting him after his treatments. The chance they would work was low, but there was no way Dr. Spencer Reid, genius, profiler, owner of more degrees than she could name, was going down without a fight. 

Sometimes, in the dead of night, when she felt like torturing herself with the outcomes, she'd look back in wonder how his brilliant brain was the thing to do him in. Symptoms started with headaches, then alternating night where he couldn't sleep and mornings where she could not wake him. Each time a symptom arose, he’d merely recite the list of them as if he was worried he wouldn't remember them the next day. He was always so proud of his brain, and it was tearing him apart. The chemo was terrible, but he used to get this smile on his face, as he had just read a magnificent piece of literature for the first time, and say, “I’ve already beaten the odds, you have no idea what I am capable of.” In that smile, she’d see the man she’d fallen in love with, her dashing genius, the one who never failed to make her feel better, but there was no statistic on this that would help. There was no way for him to make it all better with a magic trick, a few choice words, or jokes over the dinner table.

The team was filled in soon after. They were his family, and they deserved to know. Emily merely hugged him, and reassured him, even if he would be scaling back to paperwork, he would always have a place at the BAU, and Rossi merely stood there, and embraced him, desperately hoping he would not have to bury another child. Hotch was contacted through the contact number they got through the Marshals service, and he sat on the other end of the phone, and allowed Reid to fall apart, though she was sure his face mirrored Reid’s. JJ and Garcia loudly sobbed at the news, trying, hoping there was another answer, but to no avail. Luke and Matt merely looked at each other silently, newcomers to most things, but especially the level of grief shown here. Their friends, former team members, Ethan, all the people from his past all reacted in various ways, the very ideas of who Spencer was falling apart in front of them.

None of the reactions came anywhere close to Diana’s. They flew out there to tell her in person, the guilt sitting on both of them like a truck collapsed on their chests. Neither of them knew what to say, but it turns out it didn’t matter. All it took was Spencer walking into the room, and his mother knew. Of course, she did. Her mother’s intuition never died down, just like she never forgot him. Her eyes met his, and she shrieked, a noise that perfectly summed up their total and utter helplessness at that moment. “My dear boy, how long do you have?” Spencer was glad he didn’t have to tell her, that she knew. He had struggled with the very idea for a while. During their stay, they filled in William too, but he was not the important one. Diana merely held her soon and assured him that everything was going to be okay, a platitude that fell flat on everyone’s lips.

The next few months flew by, them doing all they could to support each other in the coming days. The night he passed six months, they laid in bed together, crying, neither daring to acknowledge the little sliver of hope, as if it would disappear. But after that night, things got worse. Spencer got more and more confused, his sentences trailing, his ideas no more than half-formed. He hasn’t picked up a book in months, the words on the page giving him a massive migraine. 

She knew they’d end up here one day, but she never wanted it to be this soon. The doctors and nurses pass her pitiful looks as they pass by the room as if it’s written on her face that he’s dying, but the tear tracks down her face are enough. He grips her hand, but even over the past twelve hours or so, she can feel his hand loosening, she just can’t acknowledge what that means. 

She can’t acknowledge that she is losing him, and there is not a thing she can do. Fixing the sheets and blankets around him, making sure he is comfortable, she startles when he jerks awake, his unfocused eyes meeting hers. His voice is raspy, and his words are carefully planned out. “We … knew… this… would… happen… Just… remember… I… love… you… more… than… life… itself…” 

She murmured back, “Ann H. Gabhart.” She was one of her favorite novelists, and a romantic at heart. It didn’t surprise her that Spencer chose that.

As soon as the words left his mouth, his jaw slacked, his hand, which had been gripped so long fell limp out of her hands, and her world exploded into noise as the machines around her blared their alarms. She merely tucked her knees in, and allowed her world to grow quiet once more. Everything else would be handled another day, but today, today was for her, her and her dead Spencer, the love of her life. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'd say I was sorry, but I don't know how else to apologize. K


End file.
